IN THE RAVINE’S WIDE BREATH OF DAY

Posted: October 28, 2011 in Uncategorized
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IN THE RAVINE’S WIDE

BREATH OF DAY

I feel this nameless dread

in the neon after-glow

tantrum trail of perseverance

like a side-line prism

refusing inertia

in the myriad gleam from

melting snow-light.

What a cost to late Summer

caught unaware

her wardrobe dressed in

lingering fuchsia and golds

resisting the corduroy

drape of heavy cold.

In the ravine’s wide

breath of day

what will you do

with the soft breakage

of the world

as an ancient tree

goes sadly limp

swans float

across an inky

toxic pond.

Now hear the grinding

the constant stamping

of twisted vine

and mutilated root

from the underbelly of

hungry earth

her bowels too wounded

to even give up

what’s left of

stunned worms.

Fear cataracted in a wild

stallion’s darting eyes

sensing your every

unspoken hatred

each and every

swing at mad air

assuaged only

by temporary

displacement

from sunken

twilight.

Are modern minds so

lobotomized

like an infant ripped

too soon from

its shocked womb

that even hearts

have bled out

kindness with

numb tendrils?

Ringlets of tears

needled into

a vacuum of pity

torn from neglected

edges down

the slope of extinction

riding high an horizon

sucked dry and

devoid of

spectrum

seams.

There’s an arctic hare deceived

into thinking the fox

is not as cunning as told

until it finds itself

squeezed between

the meaningful fangs

death swift and sweet.

Mahogany seeks the

austere silhouette

of birch, aspen

in their regal prime

grasping that its

one shade shorter

from acceptance

and now weeps

in vibrant disarray.

Where does one draw

the invisible line

between placidity

and pain

thirst or

monsoon

rain?

Does oblivion live incognito

reliving stolen memories

from depleted dreams?

Tongue of meandering

streams carve their vision

through the mountain’s

sickened

core

monotony buried

in safe folds

of purple sage

and unforgiving stone.

Nature’s show plays

out despite our

tepid audience

yet its performance

revels more when

admiration sets in

deeper and begs

its pristine bow.

I taste the nectar

left behind by

reckless bees

from the prey of amassing

clouds raging hungrily

for desert dust to drink

and appreciate this

mighty gift of storm.

The way of the wild

wants merely to tame

the vigilance of

unreceptive rigidity

to break pieces

unwilling to bend

with yielding compatibility.

How is it lichen can thrive

beside a rose

not feel the need

for competition

Alas! not be overwhelmed that

beauty lies haunted

behind the swollen eyes

of the fickle beholder?

Does it not seek

it’s own

self-recognition?

In the mouth of space

are we not all

swallowed by some

cosmic script

adhered to yet

for now still unwritten

staring at us

blind with loneliness

but confidant in our face?

How it dares mortality

relinquishment of

burning, insatiable

desire for each eternal

soul to be erased.

In the ravine’s wide

breath of day

in and out of

indigo blue

the last, great gray heron

with the soft breakage

of the world

soars through its tortured sky

cutting the wind like

a beautiful

knife.

~ ~

© Copyright 2011 ♥Susan Joyner-Stumpf

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